Pranavi didn't want their empty words. The soft-voiced condolences from girls who used to whisper behind her back in school, or the stiff handshakes from boys who made fun of her weight. They hovered around her now like obedient shadows, sons and daughters of her late grandfather's business associates, all wearing pristine white and feigned grief like a uniform. Their presence wasn't born out of affection or shared sorrow. They were here because their parents had dragged them, because the guest list had included one man.

Mr. Shivatya Bodil.